Paradoxes

A singsong sing-a-long

Is sung by the throng

As Bolero blares-

Boisterous and black-

In the background.

The rich man can-

With billions of bills in hand-

Escape to a different land

With no different sand

Than what already lies under his own tenement.

Plastic proceeds to proceed

From the planet

And mangle its mother

With malignant and foul

Petrichor.

Birds are born

And flowers flourish

And society seizes

And hearts swell-

Just to perish.